


Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story

by mackboeser



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Brad is for the GAYS, Coming Out, I was pretty sad and angry when I wrote this forever ago, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Mentions of homophobia, NHL needs to wake the fuck up and realize some shit, Players also need to wake the fuck up and realize some shit, but either way, sorta???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 22:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19798942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mackboeser/pseuds/mackboeser
Summary: I posted this and then deleted it awhile ago, but it's BACK with a new ending cause I said FUCK IT and decided I wanted to keep my fics up.





	Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story

**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU FOUND THIS BY GOOGLING YOU OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW, i'm begging you to leave.  
> This is purely fiction and wbk it's not real.

Bradley had never experienced this much anxiety before. He was extremely nervous, hands shaking. This was so new, so unpredictable. His heart felt as though it were going to burst out of his chest. He wasn’t completely convinced about anything going well, but he knew he could confidently do this. He knew he could be the change the league definitely needed. Gary Bettman would be quaking in his dress shoes. Because he was Brad Marchand, you know? And at this point, he felt like he could do anything. He just needed the chances and opportunities to do them.

And this opportunity was one he wasn’t going to turn down. It was time for him and for the league. It was time for there to be some changes and if it took Brad Marchand coming out to see them happen, then he was willing to do it. He didn’t have much to lose, anymore. Sure, he could lose support from fans and his family and players, but there were people out there that needed someone they could look to. Little boys that want to play hockey just like him, but are left out due to their weirdness or something of the sort. He wasn’t as afraid anymore. He wasn’t here to be some poster boy; at least, not like that. He wouldn’t let this league dictate his ability to play due to his sexuality. He wouldn’t let this league dictate anyone’s ability to play; not anymore. 

He kept his plans a secret, gave no clues or hints. Only very few people knew about his sexual and romantic preferences. He had only trusted Zdeno with that information. They never really spoke of it, but Zee was happy for him and promised to keep it to himself. He definitely knew Zee was protecting him more as well. So he kept it all locked away, waiting to boil over. It wasn’t too bad, if he was honest. He hardly had the time to truly process everything considering the fact that seasons were hard work and there wasn’t much room to breathe. It was okay. He was content.

So he started with his family first. A Skype call that led to happy tears and warm smiles. He was okay. His family was okay. They were  _ proud.  _ And that was all he could’ve ever asked for. His family was okay and still loved him. They supported him. They accepted him. He knew how big that was. Not many people could say that and the thought of it made Brad shiver with sadness. He was happy for himself, glad he could rely on his family. This whole thing was also so confusing to him. But he let it go, let it slip to the back of his mind and continued on forward. It wasn’t easy for anyone; it probably never would be. That’s why he’s gotta do this, why he’s gotta come out and be the role model people need him to be. Someone had to do it for the kids, for the others in the league, for the people who needed it the most. 

He wholeheartedly wished that everything could be different. He wanted this league to be welcoming and accepting. He wanted to see people prosper here every year that they could, but he knew that the reality wasn’t there. The league wasn’t there yet and neither were its players. Brad was ready to make them be there. It was 2018, almost 2019, and it was time to step up and bring attention to the issues. He wouldn’t be afraid, nor back down. They would not silence him. He was 30 years old and gave this league everything he had since he started at 18. They would listen or they would pay the price. 

Brad knew he was not the NHL golden boy, but he sure as hell didn’t care about that anymore. They always had teams, individual players, supporting You Can Play and Hockey is for Everyone, but would they stand by that when it came time to deal with an actual player? If it came down to it, would they still support him for being gay? For being someone outside of everyone’s expectations? For being himself? He wasn’t so sure. If this happened to be his last chance, last time to play in the NHL as a loved player or whatever, he’d make sure that they understood what they’d be missing. 

As he stood in front of his teammates and coaches, he was fully prepared to let them know this. He wasn’t replaceable. (Though he’s sure plenty of people would love it if he was kicked out.) He was the only Brad Marchand and there would not be someone like him. Because everyone had their differences, everyone had their own strengths and weaknesses. Players were faster, stronger,  _ better,  _ than him now and he knew this, but they would never be him. Just as he would never be  _ them.  _ People came and went and every player would leave their own mark on this league. Brad was lucky to still be a player, still be relevant in this era of hockey. He had too much love for a game that would never love him back. He was selfish in wanting to continue to play, continue to be a player that made changes. But he wouldn’t stand back anymore on issues that mattered. 

His team was prepared to argue, defend him from himself. They say he’s still the best, still the one that people will look to, still the one that will make players starstruck. And maybe he would be, maybe he’d still have that, but this was more than that. This was more than any of that. This was about the willingness and acceptance across the league. Russians wouldn’t be able to say much; couldn’t voice their own opinions on the matter, unless they wanted to be shamed by their president. Brad knew this, but the beliefs of an ignorant government didn’t prove to be the beliefs of all its people. People had differing opinions everywhere, that was a given. It wouldn’t be too bad for him to handle. He was consciously aware of every possible player in the league that would be giving him the most trouble over this.

None of this would be something he openly said, but as he glanced around the room, he figured maybe he should. He wouldn’t, but he wished he could. Brad wouldn’t let them know that he had well thought out map of players that would quite literally come after him just because of his sexuality. He’d been around plenty of them long enough to know this. He did, however, give the team a serious stare before relinquishing his personal information to them. The fact that he was, indeed, interested in men and men exclusively, but that he was always this way and it would not be a problem in the locker room. Those that had issues with it could easily talk with him about it or grow the fuck up and deal with it, but he would not let that hurt their team or his own gameplay as he never did in the past, either. If there was anything Brad was certain about, it was that whether they supported him or not, they were here to play hockey. They were here to play damn good hockey and with how their season was going so far, they had a lot of damn work to do.

“I’m proud of you.”

It came from Zee and it still means the absolute world to Brad. He smiled softly before moving out of the room to speak with their PR team. There would be a lot to do in the coming weeks. He would be prepared for it, ready to take everything head on. He spoke with PR for almost two hours before being let go. He was slightly drained, but confident in his decisions. This wouldn’t be something he regretted. This would not be something they could make him regret. He wanted to live his truth, let others live their truths, and start the changes. The league wasn’t quite ready, if the talk with his PR team was anything to go by. They proposed several things to him, ways to come out without actually coming out, ways to still keep quiet. He wasn’t having any of it, though. He wanted this to be his way; he wanted to own who he was and how he would do this. 

That’s how he found himself standing in front of an obscure camera. No one else was around, just as he had wanted. This was personal. This was something he needed to do alone. So he sat upright on his couch, staring down a camera. He fiddled with his shirt, feeling the fabric between his thumb and index fingers. This was it. He could do this. If he could win a Stanley Cup, he could come out. He could and he knew it to be true. He did it with his family, his teammates, himself. This was something he was capable of doing. He was alone, but supported and that was all he could ask for.

So he spoke. He gave it everything he had because this was worth everything and more. This was more than just a simple thing. People needed this. People deserved this. Every day he was shown support and love like no other. These people deserved the same from him. They deserved the same from everyone in the league. It was time they showed their love and support for everyone who did the same for them. This was the time. This would be the time. Brad would make sure of it. He’d seen many kids denied and outcasted because of their differences. It would no longer be that way for the NHL, if Brad had anything to do with it. Things were going to be different. That’s just how it was.

The footage wouldn’t be released for a few more days. Everything seemed to be slightly tense within the team. They knew what was Brad , were kept in the loop. No one said anything negative or even refused. They stood by Sidney, quietly and subtly, but they were there. They would have his back. They were a team, a  _ family,  _ and no one hurts family. However, it was Jake who voiced his immediate concern. He didn’t want Brad to get hurt or be targeted by players just because of this. Brad was quick to ease Jake’s worries. He could protect himself, could manage, could take whatever attacks came his way. He had a team to back him up and enough wits about him to know when to get out of situations. If he needed to step out, he would and he’d let his As take care of it. He may not be the captain, but he knew none of them would let him risk his safety or health, nor did he want to. But if it came down to it, he would do whatever it took.

The morning of its release, Brad found himself working harder, better, and faster on the ice and in the weight room. It was the anxiety of it all that drove him to it. This would be it. This would be the day that every single person knew what Brad had to say and they would be listening. Everyone knew they would be listening. He was a pest, after all. He was someone people wanted to hear any sort of news about, good or bad, because they were like roaches. He was someone to them and that’s what made the PR team cautious. 

It happened at noon. Brad was suckered into spending time with David Backes and his wife and kids. They knew he’d be on edge and did their best to keep him distracted. It couldn’t keep Brad’s phone from ringing and buzzing on and off. He gulped softly, looking at the two adults with an apologetic smile. The messages were endless, coming from players all over the league. The ones that he actually clicked on were from Adam McQuaid. A simple “love you, bro” with a string of emoji hearts coming in a separate text. Brad chuckled to himself. Adam would always be someone who made Brad feel happy and comfortable around. They were always close when Adam was still a Bruin. He was someone that Brad felt closest to off the ice. They were best friends and nothing would change that. He was grateful for that.

Initially, he wasn’t planning to check his phone again, but once he got back to his own house, he couldn’t resist. The amount of messages he had was overwhelming. There were some from unknown numbers, which worried him, but other than that, it seemed most people he’d trusted with his number were happy and supportive and Brad swore he wouldn’t cry. He didn’t, but by the end of reading and responding to a few of the messages, he definitely could’ve. There was a lot he could say he never expected from some people, but it warmed his heart completely. This was what everyone deserved. This is what every single person deserves to feel. This amount of love and support was what should be given to everyone.

When the team is on the ice for their game against the Toronto Maple Leafs, he spots the scattered signs. He sees the flags, the rainbows, the  _ support  _ and suddenly his heart clenches. His eyes are glued to the stands, looking throughout the people. The stands were completely full. It was more than Brad had ever imagined and that meant the world to him. He grinned widely, eyes watering slightly. Pasta placed a hand on his shoulder, the smallest smile on his lips.

“They’re for you, Marchy.”

It was soft and he almost couldn’t hear it over the loudness of the crowd, but it was said and Brad could only continue to grin. He kept himself composed as he joined the team warm ups. The game went better than what Brad had expected it to. There was so much roughhousing and shit talking, but they managed to pull out a win. The arena was louder than Brad thinks he’s ever heard it. Sure, this was no Stanley Cup. This was something much more warming and beautiful than even that. It was important and meant so much. The end of the game had Brad standing center ice, stick raised in the air as a salute to the fans. This was for them. He was for them.

The postgame interviews were different. Reporters stood awkwardly around him, unsure of what to ask or to say to him. He found it amusing, if he was honest. Reporters usually had a lot to say, a lot to critique, but somehow, they seemed silent. He smiled at the group, shaking his head slightly. 

“I’m still me. I’m still the same Brad. If you’re expecting someone else or something else, you won’t find it here. I haven’t magically become someone new.”

His words seemed to cause relief to flow throughout the whole locker room. The tense atmosphere was gone just like that. He answered questions and smiled for the camera, as per usual. Everything seemed to go smoothly after that. He was still Brad Marchand. He was still a good hockey player. He was still a pest on the ice.. He was still himself; just better and less of a mess. That’s really what mattered. He was himself and he’d never become someone he knew he wasn’t. This was about being truthful and being committed to himself. He wouldn’t allow himself to go back into the darkness.

Brad eventually lost himself in the game. He was taking extra steps to make sure the team was in good health and good spirits. He knew how hard it could be and how much they needed to support each other. It was easy for Brad to ease any tension and bring a smile to some of the guys’ faces. It was almost Christmas break and that would give them some time to relax and get better, be better. So he wasn’t too worried. 

And things were mostly still going extremely well. There were people who he’d see talking shit about him all over his social media, but he paid them no attention. They weren’t worth it. One thing he knew for sure was that playing the Montreal Canadiens was going to be a lot more annoying. Playing a lot of these teams was going to be extremely chaotic, especially without Zee or Patrice. Hell, he still wasn’t even used to Adam being gone. He hated having Kampfer there because he didn’t trust him and most of the team didn’t seem to either. It wasn’t exactly the best for their situation, but they stayed professional and never invited him to things outside of regular team stuff. 

The thing is, a lot of people seemed to think Bradley should be ashamed of himself. He wasn’t sure why nor did he really care, but he was just shocked. Why should he be ashamed of something like his sexuality? Why should he be ashamed for loving men? He had no fucking idea. The messages and unsupportive shit seemed to be weighing some of the guys down, though. That was not something Brad was okay with. They didn’t do anything. They didn’t even fucking know. They’re not to blame for any of this. This was his thing. This was HIS and nobody had any right to say negative shit to his teammates. He may not be the best damn player in the world. He may not ever live up to expectations. But none of that actually mattered. He was giving this team and this game his all. 

Brad definitely thinks that it came to a boiling over point when Pasta snapped at him after practice. He wasn’t exactly trying to be annoying or rude, but he closed his mouth so fast after Pasta looked at him like he was a burden. And really, it fucking hurt to be looked at like that. He’s been given that look plenty of times, but not by Pasta, never by Pasta. He kept his head down and his comments to himself. There was no way he was going to make anything worse for anyone. They had a game tonight. They had to win this one. This was the Blackhawks and god fucking damn it, there were going to win it.

And they did, but at what cost? Brad was hurt. His head was pounding harshly and he couldn’t really focus his vision on anything in particular. He was concussed. He was fucking angry. He still remembers the absolute disgusting shit Patrick Kane had the audacity to say to him and he was  **_livid._ ** Sure, Patrick was already someone not many others liked, but Brad for fucking sure hated him now. It wasn’t even that big of a deal. Brad was a few feet away from Patrick during a penalty call and the fucking asshole decided he had to say some shit. The next thing that happened caused Brad to be thrown to the ground by Kane and he found his head throbbing out of control. 

His helmet was off and he was fucking angry. He was so absolutely quick to get back to his skates, even though it wasn’t a good idea. He just wanted to get his hands on the guy in a not so friendly way. He wasn’t quick enough or firm enough to do so due to the spinning of his vision, but his teammates were there already. It was complete bullshit. The trainer got him off early, didn’t clear him to go back. He was stuck in the fucking locker room, half dressed and anger boiling. 

What was even more angering was the post game interview that Kane did. If Bradley didn’t already want to punch him for giving him a concussion, he wanted to beat the shit out of him now. He could already see his twitter blowing up and honestly? It was hilarious. His hands worked faster than his common sense and before he knew it, a tweet in rebuttal was sent out.

“Can you believe, ME, a gay man actually made it to the NHL? And am now having others insecurities thrown at me because I'M the problem? I made it all on my own, bud. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

He was going to be skinned alive by his PR team, but if some disgusting human wants to say the shit Kane did, he’d rather be harsh back and stand up for himself than let it slide. This wasn’t some fucking joke anymore. This wasn’t just words. This was serious. This was so much more than just being “butthurt.” This was direct discrimination against him and every other LGBT+ member of the Hockey community. An outpouring of support came through on that tweet. He took a breath.

“We all work fucking hard to get here and if you think my sexuality makes me less worthy of being here, then maybe you should check your past antics and personality. Your toxicity isn’t exactly helping any of your cases. There’s no “lack of evidence” here, bud.”

It was low, but completely and utterly deserved. If Kane got to be a shitty human, then so did he. Of course, nothing could be worse than what Kane had done, proven or not. The absolute insanity from Twitter continued to grow and grow all night. It was something that Bradley wasn’t ashamed of. He deserved that shit. Brad wasn’t going to befriend or support some douchebag who was accused of the things Kane was. He already had huge issues with Kampfer being on their team. He’d never support anyone who did shit like that. Victims and Survivors didn’t deserve any of the shit they got and anyone with common decency knew that. 

So there things were. He stood up for himself and for those that deserve the support. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t ashamed. There were comments coming from all over the NHL. Players were being forced to choose sides by reporters. They were forced to keep straight faces and keep their opinions to themselves. It was fucking disgusting, in Brad’s personal opinion. They were human beings. They had every damn right to speak their minds about players like Kane and Kampfer and the others. The league treated those guys so gently, but none of them ever fucking deserved it. It wasn’t until Toews let out some bullshit, half-assed response to the media that Brad really got upset.

Concussion or not, he set up the public meeting in record time. He was sat at a table in front of bright lights, cameras all at the ready. A look of determination stayed settled on his face. This was no longer something people could ignore.

“You’re all here because I called you here. I’m here to tell you all that I’m openly and completely tired of people in this league acting like they have to play indifferent to obvious issues. My shit with Kane is because he deliberately began shit the moment he got me alone on the ice.”

He glanced around the room, eyes dull.

“”A faggot doesn’t belong in the NHL. No wonder you’re a shitty player. No wonder not even your own teammates like you.””

He recited the words with a monotone drawl. He was angry. He was tired. He wanted a change. 

“We all think that life is so easy. We play our favorite sport. We get to travel constantly. Do you know how many kids and teens and adults wish they could do what we do? A lot. There are so many people out there that deserves to make here, but couldn’t. We all think we have it made, but we really don’t. You think I asked to be a queer man in the NHL? Fuck no. No one asks to be this way. No one just up and decides it. It’s all a damn process.”

He took a breath, hands gripping each other on the table. He glanced at his PR team.

“You want my personal views on this whole thing? Then here: I may be the only gay man out in this league, but I still deserve the same respect as any other player in this league. I have every right to defend myself and anyone else I deem necessary to defend. This is an issue. This isn’t a joke. The language you hear in a locker room or on the ice is so off putting to so many kids and teens out there. These people deserve the representation. They deserve to have a chance.”

Brad stared down a camera.

“I came out so late because I struggled to accept myself. This game struggled to accept me. These people struggled to accept me. I came to terms with myself. I came to terms with the fact that gay men had to create their own teams in leagues in order to feel accepted. I came to terms with it and I hated it. Why did they have to do the things they did in order to get to where they are? They deserved better from every single coach, player, and fan that did them wrong. Every single LGBT+ person that dealt with and or still is dealing with some sort of discrimination deserves/deserved better. They’re human beings. If you, as a player, are going to say the shit you did about me in a public interview, then you deserve every single thing I say back to you.”

He knew he was straying away from PR approval, but he wasn’t actually sure he cared anymore.

“Hockey has been my constant. This game is one I love more than anything. I hope I can say that about my future significant other, instead, but for now, it’s still hockey. It’s been hockey. We all talk about how Hockey is for everyone and that everyone can play, but how true is that when an actual gay man appears midseason after years of being in the NHL? It’s proven to be different. It’s proven to be untrue. From Gallagher and Domi on the Canadiens to Kane on the Blackhawks, players have their own shit to be dealing with rather than taking such personal offense to a gay man being in the NHL. Just like them, I worked hard to get here. I worked every single day in order to make my dream come true. No one was going to take that away from me.”

He sighed to himself, head falling forward. It was beginning to throb again and he hated it. He hated having this happen, but this was more important than anything else.

“If you all want to see me burn and crash now, here you go. I’m gay. I’m out. I’m proud. I play hockey for a living. I’m 30 years old and I’m finally okay with myself. I have love for every single LGBTQ+ person out there. To any of those who needed to hear it: Your identity, your sexuality, your lack of sexuality, your lack of identity, whatever it is, you’re valid. You’re human. You matter. And for the victims and survivors of abuse and rape, you deserve to be heard. You’re not overly dramatic. You’re not a liar. You’re brave.”

He cleared his throat.

“This isn’t just a game. It’s a community. We come together and play hard, work hard, for each other. Whether you think I deserve it or not, I’m here and I’m queer and I play this sport. I don’t need your acceptance. I don’t need your love. I didn’t need it in the past. I sure don’t need it now. That was always the bonus. But I do ask that if you or someone you know are struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts due to traumatic experiences such as abuse or discrimination or rape, that you seek help and let your concerned, your voices, be heard by someone you trust. This league may not be supportive. This league may not be accepting and as open as they say, but I sure as hell am.”

He stood, grabbed his water bottle, and left in a flash. The room was left in a daze after his disappearance. This was it, Brad decided. If they forced him out, he’d go. He wouldn’t fight it. If this league was willing to keep rapists and abusers in it, then they should be more than happy to keep a gay man. But if not, then Brad wasn’t going to waste his happiness or his general well being for a league that wouldn’t love or protect him. He gave this league, this game, this team, his all and if they weren’t going to stand by him, then he had no reason to stay. He had no reason to keep getting injured or keep seeing his teammates or keep trying to make connections with rookies. If this was it, then this was it.

He kept himself away from everything. He kept in contact with his family, as that’s who he spent his break with, but avoided everyone else he could. PR was keeping him in the loop and management would call him to clarify things once in a while, but he mostly kept himself away. He wondered if they’d tell the truth? If they’d keep him close? Would they use him as a story piece for upcoming players? About what not to do or say? He had to laugh. Would that be his legacy? He didn’t really know what a legacy mattered for. So they could remember him for all the things they thought they knew? He never thought about any of this before, but he supposed now was a better time than any. 

He wondered if people would ever realize that the world was wide enough for them all? That they could all really coexist together in one place? He would never be sure. He would never understand any of it. These people, though, would not be what ended him. He would be the end of himself. He would allow himself that. Because through it all, he’d be known as the Little Ball of Hate and the first out player. But they’d never know him; not in the way that matter. He stared at himself down in the mirror. He smirked at himself before tweeting out a simple:

**_“Who lives, who dies, who tells your story”_ **

Then proceeded to finish his morning routine. He may have just been the first active player to come out in the NHL. He may be someone’s worst nightmare. But this was who he is. He was proud of himself. He’d made it to the NHL. He’d finally come out. He felt… free. 


End file.
